No, not Toothy Tile. For a change. Ever since ol’ Tooth re-recommitted to Gray Goose and they got all hideously domesticated, our double-T seems to have lost his devotion to doing it in every open space he can manage. Like WeHo parking lots and the such. I mean, so many men just have sex the same way they pee, right? Let it fly (whatever the bodily liquid) wherever ya want! Morals be damned, a man’s gotta go—or go-go—when he’s gotta, right?

Right, squeals our latest boy wonder in the annals of Hollywood homosexual clandestine coupling. Dude’s name is Public Thrust. He’s a star of considerable rising proportions, is on some huge-ass projects. Huge. P.T.’s career is certainly humming along just fine, thanks much. And isn’t it fascinating, P.T.’s peeps, who supposedly have his best interests in mind, are doing their best to steer Mr. Thrust away from any gay projects that come dancing his way (‘cause, let’s face it, the guy looks as queer as my hair), all the while Public-babe is hitting some H-town parties that don’t exactly cater to the beer-and-football type o’ guys.

More specifically? Let’s just say that while Thrust’s managers and such are doing their best to keep their star out of anything remotely Brokeback Mountain-esque, P.T.’s performing, quite impressively, I must say, at some H'wood dos where doing each other is the point of the gathering. Orgies, gay ones—in case you’re having trouble reading my totally homo cryptospeak.

You know what this means, don’t you? It’s the same with Toothy. It’s the same with married men who cheat. It’s all about getting caught, in other words. Public, just like Tooth, wants to be found out. They desire to be out. But they just can’t seem to find the guts to do it. So they let their peckers do the walking, or talking, as it were.